Mr & Mrs Smith: The Flip Side
by WhoMe-2
Summary: An enlightening glimpse at what went on in the Doctor's head while posing as the husband of Rose Tyler.
1. Part One

**A/N **As promised, here's a glimpse at the Doctor's perspective during Mr. & Mrs. Smith. This will be in 5 parts, consisting of a couple extra scenes plus a few key moments. Enjoy!

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><p><strong><span>Part One<span>**

Having existed for close to a millennia, the Doctor had very nearly done it all. He had saved and ended lives, been praised and cursed, welcomed and banished, labeled a hero, a rogue, a champion, a thief….just to name a few. This particular moment, however, was a rare first. He, a Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey, was currently entering a London jewelry store with the intention of purchasing wedding rings for himself and his human companion. Never let it be said that his life was predictable.

As he perused the glass cases housing shiny little pieces that symbolized union, he felt as if a swarm of Vespiforms had taken up residence in his belly. That wasn't a new sensation as of late, if he were honest. It began in earnest around the same time he asked Rose Tyler how she felt about the title of "Mrs. Doctor."

They were now about to embark upon an adventure that might prove to be their most dangerous yet. In order to infiltrate a marriage retreat, they would have to undertake the precarious charade of posing as husband and wife. The danger did not lie in a threat to his safety. It was far more serious. He feared he was about to risk his hearts. He had kept them carefully guarded for so long, but he didn't know if he could maintain his diligent defenses while venturing down the impending path. Scarier yet, he didn't think he _wanted_ to maintain those impenetrable defenses. If he had, he wouldn't have jumped at this opportunity, terrifying as it was.

While Rose now handled the issue of telling her mum that she would soon be leaving for the Lake District (omitting a few eyebrow-raising details), the Doctor saw to the arrangements for their excursion. He initially told himself this was no different from any other adventure. Strictly routine. Looking for suspicious alien activity? _Pffft_. They did this sort of thing in their sleep. No problemo! So why did his hearts feel like they were trying to escape his ribcage? It probably had something to do with the registration form he'd recently submitted, naming Rose as his wife. _That_ was hardly routine.

Despite his rather alarming hearts rate over the approaching situation, he had so far conducted himself in an appropriately calm and collected manner, if he did say so himself. That didn't mean his emotions weren't attempting to run amok. Ordinarily he would have remained cautiously detached in a situation like this. Or even avoided such a risky situation altogether. But something deep inside him, something mad and reckless and wholly sick of having everything he truly wanted out of his reach, was not only willing to take this chance but was _eager_ to do so.

And he knew why. Something had snapped inside him the moment he saw Rose nearly sucked into the never-ending Void. He had watched, helpless and screaming her name, as her fingers slipped from the lever that served as her only anchor between life and death. In that instant, he saw every possibility that could have ever been snuffed out like a candle. In that same instant, he had realized that the bitter pain of regret over a path not taken was far, far worse than taking said path and reaching its eventual conclusion after a life lived to the full.

But once Rose was gloriously and miraculously safe thanks to the valiant effort of Jackie Tyler (something he would forever be grateful to the woman for…whether or not he came right out and said as much), he didn't quite know how to proceed down such a formidable path. It wasn't just age-old reservations still holding him back, but new ones. What if Rose just didn't _want_ that sort of thing with someone like him? He was an alien to her, for Rassilon's sake. And a genocidal one at that. Talk about baggage. He couldn't exactly give her a typical human life or a normal relationship. In fact, embarking on something like this with someone like him would mean she would _never_ have that kind of life.

And so he had remained in a holding pattern since Canary Wharf, wanting and so close to finally attempting more – _so_ _much_ _more_ – but at a loss as to how to go about it, uncertain whether Rose would even want it. It wasn't the sort of thing he was adept at just coming right out and discussing. Over nine hundred years, but no one outlived the fear of rejection. And a part of him didn't feel like he even had a right to suggest such a thing.

If only he could have just known how Rose felt about this sort of thing without risking everything they currently had, creating a strain in their friendship or putting her in an awkward spot. He knew Rose cared for him. Deeply, even. Actually, that just seemed to be part of her nature. Even still, she cared for him in ways he likely didn't deserve and far more than anyone else had in a _very_ long time. But to the extent of wanting to bind her entire being to his for the rest of her life? That was the pivotal question he couldn't seem to bring himself to ask.

Then, like a stroke of sheer fortune a man like him rarely received, this current opportunity had presented itself front and center. It was a chance to test the waters, to see how Rose would react to this sort of thing without the danger of ruining things between them if she _didn't_ seem interested in making it a permanent reality. It was also a perfect opportunity to learn a bit more about human relationships first hand. He was an alien to Rose, but that went both ways.

He'd always been a bit vague on the nuances of human relationships, having never been personally entangled in one himself. On Gallifrey, unions were often formally sanctioned and matings based on advantageous alliances. On Earth it was usually much less formal, yet much more _complicated_, with emotions being the dominant factor.

It pained him exponentially to admit this, but Jackie Tyler had been right: he didn't truly know what was normal in human terms. Not by experience, at any rate. He'd been on the outside looking in long enough to know the basics. But to understand it well enough to even _think_ of entering into a binding relationship with a human? For that he was going to need some practical experience. What better way to learn about human relationships than to spend three days immersed in nothing but? He now had a perfect, reasonable opportunity to do so as a necessary element to this undercover adventure.

So here the Doctor stood in an ordinary jewelry shop, searching out wedding rings for himself and Rose, on the verge of risking more than he'd previously dared. If this _were_ a simple charade, he could have come up with something on the fly or even stuck a biodamper on her finger. But deep down he wanted this to mean something. And so, he had tapped into a little used, nearly forgotten bank account UNIT had insisted on paying into on his behalf for services rendered years – and a few regenerations – ago. He was going to do this properly.

The Doctor had no illusions of making any sort of bold declarations to Rose as he presented this to her. He was going to try to behave as if this was just all part of the agreed plan so as not to put any kind of undo pressure on her. But he was highly anxious to gauge her reaction just the same. Would she shrink away from the gesture or accept it readily? There was only one way to find out. He just hoped he could contain his enthusiasm if she _did_ allow him to place this on her finger. Humans assigned significance to this sort of thing, and if she accepted it from him that would be the first good sign.

The Doctor had stopped his perusal to gaze down at two matching gold bands seated on a bed of blue velvet beneath the glass display case. They were unpretentious, yet arresting in their significance. They caught the light and gleamed back at him, golden and shining. They reminded him of Rose.

"Have you made a choice, sir?" an eager saleswoman asked, noting his obvious interest.

"Yeah," the Doctor breathed out, surprised by how weighty that one word felt as it left his tongue. "I have."


	2. Part Two

**A/N **For contextual reference, this scene coincides with Chapter 4 of the original story.

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><p><strong><span>Part Two<span>**

The initial foray into this mad, precarious escapade had begun. The Doctor and Rose were now officially registered as husband and wife, and Rose was currently wearing the symbolic sign of union he had placed on her finger. She had actually accepted it from him! She had also looked at him as if he'd gone mad when he had presented it. Perhaps he had. But he wasn't turning back now.

Shortly after arrival they had then introduced themselves to the group, during which Rose casually mentioned that her decision to take up with the Doctor had been done on a trial basis. A trial basis! And she'd sounded so nonchalant about the whole thing, as if that life-altering day had been no different from any other. He'd done his best to assure her that he, for one, had no doubts she belonged in his life right from the start, but hopefully without coming across as unbecomingly sappy. She _did_ then tell him she hadn't regretted it or looked back. He just hoped he'd never give her a reason to. Especially under these new, untested circumstances.

With introductions complete, brunch was now being served. As Rose mingled about the rustic lodge and took the domestic approach of getting to know their group, the Doctor tried to move forward for now and focus on the other reason for being here in the first place – the possibility of threatening alien activity on Earth. Thanks to the scans he was now in the discreet process of performing with the sonic screwdriver, he had just confirmed his suspicions regarding alien activity. The host couple was D'Narian in origin. If only other answers could be obtained as easily now that he and Rose were here.

His mind kept circling back to the question of how Rose felt about this situation in regards to…well…him. All in all, he didn't yet know how he was faring here. If he were keeping score he wouldn't know if he was winning or losing. Not that it was a game, despite the fact that he had to project an easygoing attitude so as not to overwhelm Rose with the torrent of emotions that were threatening to overwhelm _him_. Rose's emotions, however, were not yet decipherable. Whether she was aware of it or not, Rose Tyler could be a tormenting mystery. At least to alien members of the opposite sex.

In spite of this, the Doctor was finding it difficult to control his enthusiasm since arrival. He was going to be able to say and do things he never could have and perhaps never would have under different, far less opportune circumstances. The possibilities were _brilliant_! The potentials alone filled him with impish buoyancy.

But Rose? He couldn't help but notice that her enthusiasm seemed a bit…lacking. If nonexistent. Doubts grew and warred within him, telling him that maybe this whole thing had been a bad idea after all. Things were good between them as it was. Better than good. Things were… Well, he couldn't really define the impact Rose had on his life, on a daily basis at that. The very last thing he wanted was to lose that, making him question the risks here. But even if what they had remained safe and unchanged through this, did he really want to know with certainty that they would never have more, if that was indeed to be the case? Maybe they should just stay within safe and comfortable borders where there were no risks. No disappointments. No emotional dangers. No chance of attaining more.

The Doctor forced himself to shake off such defeated thoughts. He'd just begun, and he wasn't one to give up easily. Rose herself had always been one to remind him of that. He was just going to have to keep it up, let her see how much he enjoyed this with her, flirt mercilessly if need be to erode the walls of his own making, and resort to blatant innuendo if necessary to get her thoughts headed in the right direction. In short, he was going to pull out all the stops and woo her in a manner rivaling any human male. More or less.

His approach had to be right, though. The Doctor feared full transparency and putting _too_ much on the line, because there would be no going back from that if it came to it. This was going to be a challenging balance of crossing into new territory while still maintaining an escape route.

He would've been lying to himself if he tried to pretend this didn't still terrify him. But again, he could simply fall back on the built-in excuse of maintaining their cover story if ever Rose seemed uncomfortable or unreceptive to his…advances. He wasn't going to pressure her. He certainly wasn't going to force affections or take advantage of her. But he was bloody well going to give this his best shot. This type of opportunity may never present itself again – an opportunity to be forward and bold while still, essentially, holding back. What better circumstances could a paradoxically reckless and repressed Time Lord ask for? Oh yes, he was going to make the most of this.

Mentally preoccupied as he was, the Doctor went about secretly sonicking his surroundings, realizing too late that he was perhaps just a wee bit sidetracked by thoughts concerning his distracting human companion. He went from bio-scanning the room at large to analyzing the origins of the items on the buffet table without appropriately switching settings. The destructive sonic waves hit a nearby orange juice carafe with unfortunate results, glass shattering and juice erupting.

Swiftly pocketing the sonic, the Doctor made a hasty retreat before being pinned with the crime, all the while hoping the object of his inhibited affections had not witnessed this little incident. It wasn't quite how he'd planned to get her attention.

_Blast_! How on Earth did humans _cope_ with such distracting emotions? If he was going to go through with this, he was definitely going to have to get better at handling it. The Doctor made up his mind then and there to be the definition of calm and collected from here on out no matter what came their way over the course of the next few days. Three short days. How hard could it be?


	3. Part Three

**A/N **This flashback of the Doctor's takes place at the end of day two, referencing moments up through Chapter 12.

Until the next update, Merry Christmas to all!

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><p><strong><span>Part Three<span>**

_How hard could it be?_

The Doctor remembered asking himself that question at the start of all this, when the real question should have been how _naïve_ could he be? Over nine hundred, yet sometimes he felt as inexperienced as he had at ninety. He hadn't expected this to be easy, but he never anticipated it being _this_ hard. In the past, he had been so cautious to ensure his relationship with Rose remained within safe borders that he hadn't been aware of how much work it would take to actually shift things.

The Doctor and Rose were now on the eve of the final day of the retreat, and his hopes were growing ever dim. So far Rose was showing no signs of interest in deepening the nature of their relationship. Quite the contrary, despite his efforts. He wasn't sure what more he could do at this point.

Just what did it take to charm a human female? He had been overtly flirtatious, trying to elicit a favorable response in return, had purchased and presented her with a ring, carried her over the threshold of their cabin upon arrival, and during one of their sessions basically told her that she was one of the best things in his life and exactly what he needed. Granted, he had gotten a little tongue-tied when trying to elaborate. Though talking was somewhat of a specialty of his, _that_ sort of talking was going to take some practice. But still, he thought he'd been getting his point across, all the while not being too forceful or intense about it if Rose seemed uncomfortable or unreceptive. Unfortunately she had.

Unable to pretend he hadn't noticed, he finally came right out and voiced his observation that she didn't even seem to want to be here with him. And Rose confirmed it. She'd then tried to backtrack and qualify the statement, but he had saved her the trouble. She'd made her point.

Even still, he never could resist diving headlong into danger, and that danger had tantalizingly, treacherously presented itself in the form of romantic fiction. He'd eased his way into that particular situation by keeping things light, engaging in a bit of good-natured teasing that came so easily for them. But Rose had actually become just shy of angry. He probably should have let it drop then and there, but that gorgeous fire in her eyes always made him a bit more reckless.

From within their shared cabin, the Doctor glanced at a now-slumbering Rose, sleeping soundly in the bed a few feet from the chair in which he sat. The restless Time Lord briefly closed his eyes in remembrance, still able to feel the vibrant human heat that had radiated from her body, so close to his on that very bed. His pulse rate increased as he recalled the words he had recited in that moment, words he wished he'd had the courage to speak not from a page, but directly from his hearts…

-:-:-:-

He clears his throat and begins reading. His respiration quickens with the thrill of being able to say these things aloud to Rose, even though he's using the book as a safety net. _"Connor drew closer, his passionate intent clear…"_

Rose groans from beside him on the bed, tossing an arm over her face. It seems she isn't going to make this easy. He's reading her romance and she's groaning in annoyance. What does it take to entice this woman? He persists, though. In for a penny…

_"'I was a fool to think that I could live without you,' Connor openly confessed. 'I could survive without air in my lungs longer than I could survive without you in my arms…'"_ The Doctor pauses, assessing her reaction. Rose glances up but gives nothing away. "This is somewhat lacking in scientific accuracy," he states, falling back on nonchalance.

"It's not about science," she remarks, still sounding annoyed.

He has to agree as he skips ahead a few lines, reaching the words that had drawn him to this passage. "Oh, I can see that... _Connor and Angela were a scant heartbeat apart as his whispered_ _words_ _fell upon her ear. 'Our love can no longer be denied. I've finally realized that it's time we stop trying.'"_

His hearts seize in his chest. He would give a regeneration to have the courage to say these things for himself. As if pulled by gravity, he moves even closer to the woman beside him, pouring every ounce of sincerity into the words as his mouth lowers to her ear, willing her to understand. Rose opens her eyes and turns her head.

Time briefly stills as her gaze holds him captive. He finally forces his eyes back to the book, but he remains close as he reads the last few pivotal words.

_"'I'm yours if you want me...'"_

There they are. Six words in offering. He once brought down a government with six words. Now he topples his own defenses. Hearts hammering, the Doctor's eyes lift to Rose.

"G-go on," Rose says.

"That's the end of the chapter." He lowers the book but remains close, unable to pull away. He summons the courage to press just a bit further, emboldened by the fact that he may never get such an opportune chance again. "What happens next, do you think?"

"You tell me. You're the one holding the answers," Rose deflects.

The Doctor places the book down and closes the cover, letting her know the next move is hers to make, that _she_ holds the answers here.

"Not always." His eyes study hers, seeking answers to questions he fears asking outright. "You're familiar with this story, Rose. What do you think should happen next?" he cautiously puts forth.

Her nervousness is apparent. Is it because she didn't expect this or because she's uncomfortable with it in the first place? "Well, I…I think that since it now seems like each knows how the other feels, things should just sort of naturally…fall into place."

A brief smile flits across his face. He longs for things to be that easy. "It's that simple, is it?"

"Sometimes."

He regards her for a long, contemplative moment. Oh, how he wishes. For a fleeting second, his hearts even dare to hope. "Sometimes…"

"But…even if it still takes some work, finally getting things out in the open is the first step," Rose continues, and he wishes she would stop speaking in terms of that bloody book. "Each has to be sure of how the other feels so they can move forward."

He can't quite meet her eyes with the next question, which makes him more vulnerable than he is comfortable allowing. He _has_ to ask it, though. He has to know. "And what if the other doesn't feel the same way?"

"Doesn't or can't?" she asks back.

His mind races, wondering which pertains to her. Part of him wishes she'd just say; part of him wishes he'd never asked. Either way he feels hope go dim. "Same outcome, I suppose."

His remaining hope is all but snuffed out as Rose turns onto her back, seeming to distance herself. "In that case, maybe some things are best left unsaid. That way they can at least hold on to what they _do_ have."

And there it is. What he's feared. The things he longs to say are words Rose doesn't want him to speak. Whatever her reasons, and granted there are a host of legitimate ones, she doesn't want things to change. He can understand that all too well. It does nothing to soothe the ache in his chest.

He can't answer immediately. When he does, it is with resignation. "Maybe so."

-:-:-:-

The Doctor scrubbed a hand down his shadowed face as the unpleasant memory faded, bringing him back to the present. On reflection, he realized Rose hadn't actually said she didn't have deeper feelings for him. Not in so many words. But what she did say seemed clear enough in that regard. Even still, he hadn't sensed disinterest from her. He'd sensed hesitation. Perhaps even fear. Was she afraid of things changing? Of losing or jeopardizing what they had? If so, he couldn't blame her for that. He'd shared the same fear for the past two regenerations. He still did to a certain degree.

And so he had thought that perhaps if he continued to show her he was open to this, if he continued to embrace whatever came in this situation with enthusiasm and showed Rose he wasn't backing away, he would put some of her potential fears at ease. He had no idea if it would work or if that was even her issue, but he didn't know what else to do. He obviously couldn't come right out and hit her with irrevocable declarations at this point, since she'd basically told him that sort of thing was best left unsaid. But they did have to continue getting up close and personal in this situation by nature of the circumstances, so he could at least continue to demonstrate his willingness. By doing so, he had hoped that maybe she would start getting a little more comfortable with it all.

The Doctor pinched the bridge of his nose as he recalled how his hopes of making Rose comfortable had _not_ gone as planned.

He'd finished his new scanning device that same night (the name itself another failed attempt at innuendo…she'd _laughed_ at it), and he'd been so eager to tell Rose, to _impress_ her, that his feet had carried him on automatic, striding in the direction she'd last gone. Which, as it happened, had been the en-suite.

He had opened the door and burst in, enthusiasm spilling over. So much so that he hadn't immediately registered her shock until it was too late…

-:-:-:-

"It works! Or rather…_will_ work. And beautifully at that, just as soon as it completes its charging cycle! By tomorrow we should be able to uncover exactly what's out there and where. Oh, yes!" He can't resist smacking his lips to his little beauty. By Rassilon, he's proud of it! And quite right, too.

"Doctor!" Rose cries out. "I'm…I'm trying to _bathe_!"

He glances from his brilliant, successful creation to Rose. Naked Rose. The grin on his face begins to slacken as his jaw does the same.

"Bathe," she hotly repeats. "As in bathing. Me. Right now. Taking a bath. In the tub."

His brain feels like it has slowed to half speed. Though he prides himself on his superior mind, to be fair, Rose Tyler is spread before him, wet and naked. Well…wet and somewhat covered by frothy bubbles, but the point still stands. Under the circumstances, he'd challenge the brain of _any_ male to operate at full capacity.

In hindsight, perhaps he should have made a less hasty entrance. But this isn't the first time he's gone in search of Rose to share a new discovery or accomplishment, giving little thought to where she was or what she might be doing. The difference here is they're not on the TARDIS, where he's typically held at bay from crossing privacy boundaries. The Old Girl is a bit of a prude, so she's always looked out for that sort of thing where female companions are concerned. And _oh_, has the TARDIS been cheating him.

Ahem. Yes. Right. Rose is still glowering at him. He scratches his neck and attempts to form a coherent reply. "Yes… Well, yes. I can…see that."

"Obviously. That's sort of the problem right now," she grits out.

"You're covered," he counters, and finds himself glaring in resentment at the obscuring cloak of bubbles. "And it's not like I'm seeing any parts of you I haven't already," he attempts to reason and defuse the situation. "I mean…head, neck, shoulders…"

As he speaks, he finds himself longing to see more. More of Rose. More of her glowing, silken skin, and perhaps even a glimpse of the elusive tattoo he's recently learned of that has since been driving him a bit wild.

"Eyes front and center, Doctor," Rose snaps.

"Technically, they already–" He stops himself before carrying that thought into _highly_ dangerous territory.

"Do you mind giving me some _privacy_? 'Cause here's your human sociology lesson for the day. Most humans value privacy. This human in particular when it comes to bathing in front of men who are _not_ really her husband. Now if you don't mind, take your A.R.S.E and Get. Out."

Rose, it seems, is a bit miffed. And he, it seems, is not welcome.

"Blimey, human women and their moodiness," he mutters as he turns and leaves, wondering if she'd react in the same way had the unexpected guest been Mickey Smith. Or Jack Harkness. Or… As his fist clenches and nearly crumples his scanner, he realizes it's best not to even go there.

He shuts the door to the bathroom and takes a few long, deep breaths. It's going to take him a good long while to get that particular image of Rose out of his mind. If he's lucky he never will. The carnality of that thought is almost alarming. This sort of thing really shouldn't affect him to such a degree. _She_ shouldn't affect him to such a degree. But she's Rose and she does and hence his conundrum as of late. As of the past few years, really. It doesn't matter that Time Lords, as a rule, should be above this sort of thing. He always has been a rebel.

-:-:-:-

Within the quiet cabin, the Doctor suppressed a sigh, dejection settling in as he recounted his failed endeavors thus far. Careful not to disturb Rose's slumber, he stood from the chair he occupied and moved toward the window, his blank stare trailing out into the night.

After silencing any profession he might have made by declaring that some things were better left unsaid, and subsequently becoming cross with him at catching her unawares in a private moment, Rose had then reverted to being just as distant and unreadable as ever. So from there on out the Doctor had decided to leave his expectations at the door and just go with the flow in all this. If Rose wanted nothing to do with this sort of thing, so be it. He had decided going into this that he was not going to pressure her. They would simply remain best mates during their time here. And from here forward, apparently.

The following day, he had made up his mind to simply try to enjoy this for what it was and not for what he had hoped it would be. As far as _enjoyment_ went, well... He hadn't expected it to be so dangerously alluring…in the form of a couple's massage. Given by each other.

He had known it wasn't going to be simple judging by Rose's obvious discomfort right from the start. He'd kept his attitude casual, hoping to put her at ease as they'd slipped into the en-suite together to change earlier that night. But she'd hardly been able to even look at him as he'd begun to undress. Truth be told, if Rose _had_ been comfortable doing the same and shucking her clothing in front of him, his respiratory bypass would have had to kick in to sustain him. As it was, that nearly _did_ happen once they got to the actual…hands-on portion. His temperature spiked to an unnatural degree at the mere recollection…

-:-:-:-

Rose looks to him, appearing so uncertain. He will be going first, and they've just learned that he's expected to fully disrobe for this…intimate couple's massage. He can't say he'd anticipated it going quite this far, but he also can't say he's opposed to such a scenario involving himself and Rose…and not because of the sexual aspect (though he's not averse to that, either). This is more about cultivating deeper intimacy; building greater understanding and trust. He _wants_ that with her.

Eyes only for Rose and ignoring Marco, their instructing masseur, the Doctor gives Rose what he hopes is an assuring smile. He wants her to be comfortable with this. He wants her to be comfortable with him. He trusts her completely in this situation and he wants her to know that. There's really only one way to show her. He lays himself bare.

The Doctor turns, drops his robe to the floor and eases down on the prepared table, willing his hearts to calm as his mind races. He can't say he's ever been in quite this position, and the initial feeling of vulnerability is intense, despite his trust in Rose. But what is Rose now thinking? Is she looking? Appraising? Judging? Does he measure up as a pleasing male form? Or has this bold move just heightened her apprehension? He just hopes to Rassilon he doesn't erupt and spontaneously regenerate the moment her hands actually touch him.

That first touch comes, and his breath catches…though not from pleasure. Apparently Rose is taking her anxiety out on his flesh, and he grunts in discomfort as her hands dig painfully into the skin of his shoulders.

After a bit of instruction from their masseur and, he suspects, calming down on her part, the experience soon becomes…_sublime_.

Her palms leave his shoulders to glide down his back, her touch magical, exquisite, lovin- tender. He loses himself in every blissful sensation, relishing her careful attentions as her soft hands move down his back, her circling thumbs kneading and easing the tension in his stiff muscles. She moves lower, and lower still. He feels her warm thumbs briefly skim the dip of his pelvic bones before journeying back up. He doesn't even spare a self-conscious thought at being so exposed in this moment. He wants to share this – himself – with her, and he can't suppress a soft sigh of pleasure.

As Rose continues her rhythmic motions, he begins to feel…adored. There's no other way to describe it. She isn't copping a cheap feel nor moving with clinical detachment. She is attentively and tenderly caring for him, and he feels himself tumble harder for this human woman who has become such an unexpectedly significant part of his life.

The quiet voice of the instructing masseur is the only thing that reminds the Doctor that anyone else even exists. "You're doing beautifully. But don't feel the need to hold back from offering a more intimate touch. You're free to fully express your love in any way you desire. Unlike strict therapeutics, this is also meant to be a sensual experience between you and your spouse."

The Doctor's breath stills. How far will Rose take this? How much can he handle before every shred of restraint gives way?

"Only when it's him an' me," Rose speaks softly but assertively. "I'll save that for when we're alone."

An involuntary tremor races down his spine. Does Rose know he wants nothing more? Strong determination rises up within him, vowing to himself to make another attempt to tell her how he feels this very night. He's not ready to give up. Not on this. Not on them.

Rose finishes all too soon, and the only thing he can say for now is thank you. It does not even come close to what he feels. He longs for the moment they're alone.

But first it's Rose's turn. They move to trade places, the Doctor intent on making Rose feel as adored as she has him. Maybe he can convey through touch what he has not yet been able to put into words.

He watches as her hands reach for the tie of her fluffy white robe, but with obvious hesitation. She's clearly still uncomfortable about this. In all honesty, so is he. But perhaps for a different reason.

He cuts a look at Marco.

The Doctor had no reservations opening himself to Rose, demonstrating his trust in her, his desire to share all that he is. And he wants that from her, too. But _not_ with another man present. He doesn't care if their masseur is professionally detached or not. He doesn't want Rose exposed in front of _anyone_. Well…with the exception of himself, if she were ever so inclined.

He moves to her, reaches for her hands and stills them with his own, eyes silently conveying his understanding.

The Doctor might not be able to genuinely lay claim to Rose as his wife, but he could not feel more protective if she were. "Sorry to be obstinate about this, but I'm rather firm on the fact that no one sees _all_ of my wife except me."

Her eyes meet his, and he can see her thankfulness radiating back. Oh, Rose. Doesn't she know he will do anything for her?

Marco smiles, his tone one of understanding. "Again, make this whatever you're both at ease with."

Sensing Rose's tension let up just a touch, she loosens her robe and moves to lie front-down on the table. Once in position, the Doctor draws close and helps ease the garment from her shoulders but does not expose her past her waist. This is enough…while at the same time almost too much.

His hearts stutter in his chest. Oh, she is _gorgeous_. This is Rose, this is her trust in him, this is vitality and life swathed in delicate pink flesh. Her soft skin fairly glows in the muted light, smooth and supple. He only hopes he can keep his hands from trembling as they connect with her bare flesh.

As the Doctor's cool skin meets the warmth of hers, it's like touching molten silk. She's so hot; so alive. Her eyes close, and he feels her exhale. Taking a slow breath of his own, he begins.

His light touch caresses the nape of her neck, then soothes down her shoulders in half circles, etching spiraling words in her flesh that he longs to speak. As she relaxes further, he moves lower. His journey descends the elegant expanse of her back, the feel of her skin beneath his igniting sensory receptors and sending tiny tremors throughout his body. He wonders if she has any idea what this is doing to him; what _she_ is doing to him. He only hopes she is enjoying it half as much.

Seeking after her comfort in all respects, he leans close and murmurs, "Is this okay?"

Her reply comes out on a pleasurable exhale. "Y-yeah. Feels _brilliant_."

He smiles, humming softly in response.

The Doctor loses all sense of time; of their surroundings. Until the voice of Marco cuts in, quietly excusing himself from the cabin, leaving them quite literally in each other's hands.

The moment they are alone, Rose makes to get up, reaching down to tug up her robe. The Doctor feels a flash of deep disappointment. He wants her to stay. He wants this to continue and isn't ready to give up this intimacy that has formed.

His hands press a gentle entreaty to her shoulders as he murmurs, "It's alright. Stay."

"But…isn't he gone now?" Rose questions.

"He is," the Doctor confirms, mind casting about for a reason to keep this up now that pretense is out the window. "But the tension in your upper trapezius is far from the same. Your paraspinals as well, for that matter."

Calculating just the right amount of pressure, he sinks his thumbs into the tight cords along her spine, then follows with broad, soothing stokes in reverse. Down and up he repeats the process.

"You…don't have to," Rose finally says, voice quiet.

Would it be unseemly to beg? "It's only fair I return the favor, remember?" he replies, trying to keep his tone light in hopes of putting her at ease. Despite his efforts, he feels her tense up.

"I didn't…I mean…when it was your turn on the table I didn't…" Rose exhales, seeming to grapple with her words. "I didn't look. Didn't think you'd appreciate me staring," she finishes on a mumble.

_I wouldn't have minded_, his mind supplies. But he can tell she is embarrassed. Even still, he can't help teasing just a bit to break the tension. If he knows one thing about humans, it's that they are innately curious. Rose Tyler is no exception. Attracted or no, he can't imagine her not sneaking at least one glance. It would actually be a hit to his ego if she hadn't. "No? Not even a little peek?"

Seemingly caught out, Rose turns her flushed face down into her arm, voice muffled. "Tried not to."

He pauses. He doesn't want her to feel guilty. Far from it. "It's okay, Rose. Really. It was an…unusual situation. But one I trusted to be in with you."

She lifts her head at that, looking back toward him. "Yeah?"

"Ye_p_."

"So…we're okay?"

She still seems so uncertain, so he maintains a light tone, hoping to finally ease her apprehension with this. "Right as rain! No pesky embarrassment or lingering after-effects."

She doesn't reply, and he can only hope she has grown more comfortable with this; with him.

Once he feels the last of her tension ease, physically at least, he finishes his ministrations. As he slides the robe back up her shoulders, Rose mouths a quiet, "thank you."

He doesn't reply right away. He can't. His mind is too full and the words are too heavy. There is _so_ much he wants to say, so much he is determined to make another attempt at saying, but he doesn't know where to begin.

He swallows heavily as Rose sits up. He moves to sit next to her on the side of the table, eyes finding hers and holding fast.

"No, thank _you_, Rose. For…well…" He exhales and runs a hand through his hair before gesturing helplessly. "For a lot of things. A lot of things I never…never say. You go along on this mad life of mine and never ask for anything in return. You never–"

Her hand settles over his. Hanging on her every word, his eyes flit from their hands to her face as Rose speaks.

"If I don't ask for anything in return it's because I already have what I want."

_Oh_, how he wants that to be true…in every sense. He wants to give her _everything_, yet he feels so lacking.

His eyes drift away, words quiet as feelings of inadequacy rise to the surface. "Do you? Really? Sometimes I wonder. A normal human life, and all that… There are _so_ many things a life of traveling in the TARDIS allows you to see and feel and experience. But _that_…?"

The squeeze of her hand feels like reassurance. "_This_ is the life I want, Doctor. Right here. You an' me." She pauses, seeming to consider that declaration, then repeats quietly, "You an' me."

He feels his hearts take flight and soar. She's telling him that he is enough for her. But he doesn't want to just be enough. He wants to be everything to her. Everything he can possibly be. It's time he told her that. He lowers his gaze and draws a galvanizing breath in preparation for what he is about to finally say.

"Rose, I…I just…" How can he possibly find words adequate to express how he feels? Words are usually so easy for him. But _these_ words? He exhales on a rush, shaking his head at his own inadequacy.

Before he can continue, Rose throws him off balance as she hops up from the table, turning to him with an airy grin so opposite to the solemnity he feels. "I mean…who could ask for more? Free travel to anywhere, any when; never a chance of boredom; no bills, no taxes, no…" She pauses, as if to place emphasis on her next two words. "No commitments. Beats a life of beans on toast any day."

He stares back at her, silent, head whirling from the unpleasant turn this conversation has taken. He had thought…hoped… Well, maybe that was his problem.

Resignation settles in as he nods once in acceptance. She's made her point. No commitments. If _Better Left Unsaid_ had not gotten the point across, this certainly has.

"I suppose it does," is all he can muster in reply, dejection overtaking him.

-:-:-:-

The Doctor squeezed his eyes shut against the assaulting memory. No commitments. Those two words had pervaded his thoughts from the moment they had been spoken. Perhaps he should've felt a small sense of consolation in the possibility that it wasn't him specifically that Rose didn't want a commitment with. Maybe it was simply an aversion to commitments in general. It wasn't as if he was incapable to relating to that sentiment. It had been his own staunch philosophy for quite some time. Up until now. Ironic, that.

His mind churned like a tempest at sea, wondering how on Earth this would factor in to Rose's reaction to tomorrow's…event. The Doctor had learned just today what the final activity here would entail. Ever since, anxious uncertainty over how Rose would take it had caused him to cower away from even mentioning it yet.

They were soon to participate in the equivalent of a marriage ceremony.

It wasn't just Rose who might be taken aback by this. The thought alone made his own stomach coil into a knot, to be honest. He wanted more with Rose, yes. And he'd thought these three days together would be the perfect opportunity to get their feet wet, so to speak. But he hadn't planned on diving into the deep end. Yet at the very core of his being, this was his deepest yearning. To have that kind of permanent, binding commitment with Rose would be…extraordinary. Did it terrify him? Oh, yes. Almost as much as it thrilled him.

_But_.

Would Rose ever want something like that? With someone like him? That had been his ultimate question as this day unfolded. And now it seemed he had his answer.

No.

No commitments.

Considering her stance, this might even be the final straw to make Rose walk away from this entire thing. He really couldn't blame her if she did. Trying to stop the D'Narian's plot was all well and good, but could he ask her to go this far? He could assure Rose that he would not hold her to any sort of commitment. And how could he? Not if she didn't want it, as he feared would be the case.

The Doctor gazed back out the window and exhaled, calculating the milliseconds before daybreak. He had told Rose to get some rest because the next day was going to be eventful. She had no idea.


	4. Part Four

**A/N** One more part to go after this!

* * *

><p><span><strong>Part Four<strong>

The Doctor stood in the console room of the TARDIS, having completed the configuration of the ship's auto flight sequence necessary for carrying out his rescue plan. That had been the easy bit and was not the focus of his thoughts at present. Instead, his thoughts were fixed on what came next with Rose. He could think of little else, considering.

They were on the brink of marriage.

Or at least, they were about to engage in a ceremony of renewed commitment, re-pledging one's life to the other. Same thing, really. Whether it was a first or second undertaking, the objective was the same. It was the purposeful binding together of two lives.

The thought of it still scared him, in all honesty. Yes, he wanted more with Rose. So much more. But this sort of thing represented what he thought he could never have again; what he believed he did not deserve; what he knew he could not bear to lose. In spite of this, something deep inside him leaped with joy at the mere thought that something like this could be _his._ Something like this with Rose.

And that was the rub. Despite fearing this, he _wanted_ it, mad and reckless as that might be. Rose, on the other hand, did not. She had already stated an aversion to commitments. Then just a short while ago, upon learning of this upcoming ceremony she had become...angry. Or upset, at the very least. She had said that she was not entirely against commitments, but that a commitment with someone was not supposed to be like _this._ What exactly had she meant by that? Was she opposed to the thought of a commitment with an alien? A commitment with a man nearly a thousand years her senior? A commitment with a man who had killed his own kind?

Whatever her reasons, any one of them valid, she didn't want this with _him._ Yet she had agreed. Sort of. Rose first wanted to be sure it wouldn't actually count as long as she didn't speak with binding intent. He couldn't blame her for that...even if it hurt. Still, complicated personal feelings aside, they had to go through with it if the final leg of this undertaking was going to have any hope of a peaceful resolution.

And so, he had assured Rose that this ceremony would not have any lasting significance for her. And it wouldn't, if that was how she viewed it. He'd even managed to keep the mood light when discussing engagements and proposals so as not to send her running from this whole thing. He supposed he'd pulled it off. She still didn't seem happy about it. She'd even asked if they would need a divorce afterward just in case it _did_ count.

Was he really _that_ objectionable? He'd best not ponder that question too long or else he'd likely form his own list of objections. But Rose had agreed to do this for the greater good, as she'd called it. He would just have to look at it in the same way.

The Doctor was pulled from his thoughts by the approach of the woman who consumed them.

"So!" he exclaimed, forcing a bright tone as she neared.

"So...," Rose repeated, her voice a flat contrast. "Guess it's time."

His eyes swept over her. She'd not changed into any sort of traditional gown, but he didn't think she could have been more visually pleasing if she had. He'd always found her more attractive than was good for his sanity. "You ready?"

"As ever, I s'pose." Rose seemed to hesitate as she glanced down at herself, tugging at the hem of her jumper. "This alright? I just thought...no need to make a fuss."

"You look perfect," he answered with sincerity, eyes taking another appreciative journey.

She chuckled and shrugged. "I'm dressed no different than ever."

"Like I said..."

"The TARDIS thought I needed a wedding dress," Rose inserted with a quick laugh. "Showed me quite a collection. Seems to think it's a big deal."

The Doctor shot a look at the console, sending a mental reprimand to his ship. He did _not_ need her playing matchmaker for him. This wasn't helping his efforts to make light of this to Rose in order to put her at ease. "Ah. Well... She never could mind her own business. Sorry. I suppose that's not what you–"

"–No, no, it's okay," Rose interrupted. "It was kinda sweet."

Sweet? As in...Rose actually appreciated the gesture, despite her feelings toward this?

Resigning himself to never understanding women, the Doctor offered his hand and nodded toward the doors. "Right. Well...shall we?"

Rose nodded back and took his hand. It would have been nice if she hadn't looked like she was heading to the gallows, but he would take what he could get.

-:-:-:-

The more the Doctor tried to tell himself this next step was of no lasting consequence, the more he felt overtaken by the opposite. The intensity of feelings would have been tolerable – pleasant, even – had he not been the only one feeling them.

The two of them now stood among the lakeside gathering, watching various couples commit their lives to each other as he and Rose awaited their turn to, essentially, do the same. Despite telling Rose this wouldn't really count, he knew that wasn't entirely true...from his perspective, at least. Words had power, and he knew better than to think he could speak words of commitment to Rose and not mean it. He would not hold her to any words she spoke in return, of course, nor would he have expectations of this bringing about a lasting change between them. But he knew in his hearts it would change him. He would belong to her after this day, whether Rose ever realized it or not.

Regardless, the time for pondering the situation had passed. It was time to actually do this. He glanced at Rose as they were beckoned forward. She reached for his hand, and together they took their place before the overseeing minister.

Their names were read from the register and the ceremony began.

"You stand here today not as two people unaware of the challenges that can come in a committed relationship, but as two who have experienced both the joys and trials of such a commitment," the minister spoke. "And now you have chosen to rededicate yourselves anew. This is the time to speak from your hearts what it is you are giving, what it is you are receiving, and what it is you are recommitting to one another for the rest of your lives."

Having witnessed other couples before them, the Doctor knew he was expected to go first. Drawing a breath, he turned to Rose and took her hands in his. For a man with a considerable gob, he suddenly felt at a loss as to where to begin. He glanced down, shifted a little, then brought his eyes back to hers as he began with the simple truth.

"Rose, I...I still find myself wondering why you're with me in the first place. I'm not someone who...I...I'm not the easiest person to share a life with day in and day out. I realize that. The life I lead has often times required sacrifices on your part in order to be by my side. Yet you are. By my side, I mean. Whenever I need you, you're there. Always have been. I can only hope I've done the same for you...and I'll do my best to continue. And...however long you'd like for that to be, well, it's okay with me." He felt himself frown. He wasn't sure that came out quite right. "That sounded a bit better in my head. But the point is, I once told you that you could spend the rest of your life with me. I honestly don't know why you've been with me as long as you have. But...Rose...that offer will always stand for as long as you want."

He stared at her, hearts racing. Rose just nodded. Did she know he meant every word? They may not have been the most eloquent, but his words could not have been more sincere.

"That sounds good to me," Rose finally took up, releasing a breathless sounding laugh. He found himself smiling in relief. He would take good. Good was _good._ "And if it's all the same to you, I think I'll stick with that promise of forever. However long we can have, I plan to be there for every bit of it. Because what you said about me being there for you? That goes both ways. You're always there for me, too. And you're the only one I want to spend forever with. Have been from the start and always will be. Better with two, right?"

His throat felt tight as he swallowed and nodded. "Right."

"Forever, then?"

"I think I could live with that."

"Good. Then it's a deal."

"It's a deal."

He couldn't stop the grin that overtook his face. A grin that matched hers. Regardless of the capacity in which it would be spent, it seemed Rose was reconfirming her decision to remain with him on a longterm basis. Even if it was just as a traveling companion, how could he feel anything less than elated? So many had come and gone from his life. Not always by choice, but often so. Rose still had her whole life ahead of her, and he knew better than anyone that things change. But for now he had her hand in his and the promise that it would remain.

The sound of a clearing throat brought their attention back to the minister. "Yes, well. That was clearly meaningful for both of you, which is all that matters. Insomuch as the two of you have rededicated your lives together, may your union endure for the rest of your days."

The Doctor felt his chest tighten at the pronouncement. He was hers. For him there was no way around it. He had pledged himself to another and meant it. He would be hers for the rest of her days, in any way she would have him.

"Not that the two of you need official approval at this point, but you're certainly free to seal it with a kiss," the minister finished.

The Doctor was almost surprised by the primal urge that swelled inside him. He wanted to lay claim to Rose – body, mind and soul. At the very least, he wanted to taste her lips with his own. He didn't trust himself to make the first move, so he moistened his lips, lowered them a fraction toward hers, and left the rest up to Rose as he murmured a low and rumbly encouragement. "Wouldn't want to break from tradition."

Rose hesitated only a moment before rising up to touch her soft, lush lips to his. Oh. _Ohhh!_ He felt her breathe out against him as her body pressed close, every one of his senses flooded with her – her taste, her scent, her heat. He tried to hold back, to let her take the lead, but then Rose parted her lips and took his lower one between both of hers, and he nearly lost it then and there. When she began to pull back after _far_ too brief a moment, he couldn't stop himself from chasing after her, mouth reclaiming hers. Rose didn't protest or push him away. Instead she deepened the pressure against his mouth, and he couldn't restrain his hands which gripped her waist and pulled her tight as he suckled and sampled her sweet essence.

He wondered if Rose realized the powerful effect she had on him. If so it might have frightened her away from sinking her hands into his hair and dragging her nails across his scalp as her lips opened beneath him.

He was done for.

His tongue stroked out to stake a claim, tasting, caressing and exploring every inch of her hidden recesses. She was like water to a man dying of thirst. She brought him to life even as she nearly brought him to his knees.

Now that he'd had a taste, how was he ever going to live without it?

The sound of surrounding applause brought him back down to reality, mouth slowly, _reluctantly_ leaving hers.

"I...suppose that does it, then," he rasped, eyes barely focused.

"I-I'd say so," Rose agreed.

He felt a flash of pride as he took note of her breathless state. If only she would allow it, he would have her that way every day of their lives.

"S'pose we should..." Rose said...something. It took him a moment to focus on what that was, realization dawning as she motioned toward the parting direction.

"Yes. Right. Of course."

They stepped away hand in hand, the Doctor's mind reeling. He had every language at his disposal, but only one primitive word came to mind.

Wow.

-:-:-:-

The Doctor stood at the window of the cabin, his contemplative gaze directed outward as Rose packed a few of her things to take on the impending off-world trip. He'd taken up this same position the previous night, his mind chasing questions of how Rose would react to the ceremony, how she would feel about it, what it would mean to her. The ceremony was now complete and he was still left wondering.

Her words had sparked his hope and her kiss had lit him with desire, but had she felt the same in return? Surely if she did she would say. Wouldn't she? And she had not. To be fair, neither had he. But only because Rose had initially been so intent on having his assurance that this would not be binding. How could he tell her what it meant to him if she did not feel the same?

The voice of the woman in question reclaimed his churning thoughts. "Doctor?"

He turned to her, doing his best to present a safe and neutral front. "Hm?"

"Um, what we just did... Y'know, the whole...ceremony...and everything..."

He tried to swallow. "Yes?"

"Are you..." She paused to take in a breath. "Are you sure it didn't really count?"

His hearts dropped. She still wanted to be certain this had not bound the two of them. He took note of her anxious body language – her stiff stance, her nervous hands that twisted the hem of her jumper – before looking back to her face.

The Doctor glanced away as he spoke. "You've been quite fixated on that detail."

Her voice gained strength. "It's sort of important to know."

The Doctor gathered his emotions and packed them up, his answering tone flat as he looked to her. "Like I assured you, Rose, since the words we exchanged were not going to be spoken with...with binding marital intent, then you'd have nothing to worry about in terms of legitimacy." His eyes broke from hers. "You're not bound to me. No harm done."

"Harm?"

He gave a curt nod, making no apologies for calling it as she obviously saw it. "Exactly."

Rose turned from him, apparently having heard what she needed to know. "Right. Fine. Good to know."

The Doctor turned back to the window, feeling the knot in his stomach coil tighter as his eyes flicked down to his ring. It was a human symbol. But he wasn't human. Maybe that was the crux of it. He couldn't be what she needed...what she might have wanted had he been someone else.

"You still sure about all this?" Rose spoke to him again as she zipped up her rucksack. "It's not exactly a tried and true plan with the TARDIS, an' all. We've never gone about things quite like this before."

The Doctor turned back to her. Did she not even trust him now? "Would I be doing this if it was too much of a risk?"

"In a heartbeat."

He frowned. "You don't trust me."

"I do. But..." She gave a small shrug. "Your plans...well...they don't always _go_ to plan, yeah?"

"They might – on very _slim_ occasion, mind – take a minor...detour. But everything always works out in the end."

"Does it?" she mumbled back.

Her unease was starting to get to him. Was Rose _that_ uncomfortable with him in this situation? Even when it came to the bits that weren't personal? Hadn't he long since demonstrated he could at least handle _that?_ What was really wrong here? What wasn't she telling him?

The Doctor crossed the room to her. "Rose, I can't help but notice this whole thing has had you a bit...discomposed. What is it?"

She laughed then, the harsh sound lacking humor. "Wow. Points to you for being _so_ perceptive."

The Doctor fought to keep his emotions in check and not snap back. "So do you care to tell me _why_ I've noticed this?"

They stared at each other for a tense span, neither so much as blinking before Rose finally answered. "No, actually. I don't think I do. So let's just drop it, alright?"

His frustration spiked. "Rose, we're about to go into a somewhat serious situation, and I need to be sure you're alright with it. I don't want to play games here."

"No? Isn't that what you do so well?"

He narrowed his eyes. _She_ was the one who had wanted to be sure their part in the ceremony would be nothing more than an act. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She turned away from him. "Oh, just forget it."

The Doctor put a firm hand on her shoulder and turned her back. Why wouldn't she just _tell_ him what this was really about? "No. Not until you answer me properly."

Her tone hardened. "We just spoke a pledge to each other, Doctor. Without...binding marital intent, or whatever you called it. But where I'm from, that's not usually done on a whim or as something you just fake. That makes something important into something...cheap."

Cheap.

He took a step back at her words. He had not put undo expectations on her with the ceremony and had accepted that she was not actually forming a marriage bond, but he thought she had at least meant what she'd said about committing to stay. He certainly meant every word he had spoken to her. The last thing he did was view it as cheap. Quite the opposite. Obviously he placed _too_ much value on it, as she clearly placed none. "That's how you feel?"

She cast her eyes downward. "How else am I s'posed to feel?"

His throat constricted. Apparently she was incapable of giving this significance and she resented even pretending to do so. "Well, I sincerely apologize if I've now cheapened your customs by making you go through with something you had to...fake. But as I recall, I said you didn't have to do any of this if you were against it."

Rose paused to take a breath. He sensed she didn't want to argue about this. She just wanted him to know where she stood. "Look, I...I wasn't against it. I know we had to do all this to put a stop to what's being done, and I want to help do that. It's just...this whole thing's been so different from what we've ever had to...I mean, we don't usually...we've never..." She sighed. "This has all just been sort of...weird."

"Weird..." He repeated. Was it so outlandish for her to even consider something like this with him? Apparently so.

"And about to get weirder," Rose went on in a lighter tone. "We're about to board a boat that's really a spaceship, with human marriage counselors who are really alien kidnappers, with us posing as husband and wife when we're really only just..."

He regarded her intently. "Only just...?" "Us," she finished. "Just us."

"Just us," he repeated quietly. That classification encompassed so much yet so little. The Doctor cleared his throat, having no choice but to move on. "Right, yes. Weird. I see your point. Still, that's sort of the norm for us, isn't it? Weird, I mean?"

"Yeah. S'pose maybe it is," Rose agreed. At least they agreed on _something._

-:-:-:-

As he and Rose boarded the disguised alien vessel, the Doctor did his level best to keep his mind focused on the mission at hand. It wasn't as if he and Rose were _really_ sharing a honeymoon suite, so as they entered their assigned room he didn't even pay attention to the spacious bed taking up most of the space. Much.

Focusing elsewhere, he produced the sonic and surreptitiously went about scanning the room for anything that might be amiss. He discovered it right away. A monitoring device. The Doctor swallowed thickly. It seemed he and Rose were about to have to up their game. His mind tripped over the implications, anxiously wondering how Rose would feel about this. She had gone along rather spectacularly during the ceremony, but then afterwards she'd called it cheap. Still, she had confirmed she wanted to see this through for the greater good. He really didn't see any way around this.

"So," Rose spoke. "Once we've 'set sail,' how long will it be before we can–"

He gave her a silencing look and slight shake of his head, performing another scan to confirm that the device's acoustic transducer was not strong enough to pick up on whispers. It wasn't. Well, this was about to get...interesting. He pocketed the sonic and approached Rose, eyes on hers to decipher her reaction to this.

"Who says we have to wait until we've set sail? I've been waiting all day to get you alone." His hearts sped at the truth of that admission. He stepped closer, gaze steadfast. "Been thinking about it..." Another step brought them mere inches apart. He lowered his lips to her ear. "Dreaming about it..." He remained dangerously close as he whispered. "There's an auditory and visual monitor over my shoulder at the top of that shelf. They can see and hear. The acoustic transducer isn't strong enough to pick up whispers, though. So if we keep our voices low, we're safe." The reckless side of him – the side that flared to life whenever they were this close – wanted to illicit a reaction from her, and he couldn't seem to tame his next string of words. "Right now it simply appears I'm whispering...unmentionable things to you. Humans do that during this sort of thing, don't they? Say things like–"

Rose cut him off. Pity, that. He'd had vibrant, colorful examples in mind.

"Let's leave the unmentionable things unmentioned," she whispered back. "But why _our_ room?"

The distraction of their proximity was a bit disconcerting and it took effort not to let that show. "It may be in everyone's. But we _were_ on the questionable list. They no doubt want to be sure of who's cooperating with...procreational activities as they go forward with the final phase." Intoxicated by her closeness and unable to help himself, he finished with a gentle kiss to the side of her neck. The intimate gesture simply lent itself to believability, he inwardly reasoned, knowing full well that was _not_ his motivating factor.

Rose gasped as his lips touched her skin. Her reaction was either cause for a glimmer of hope or just the opposite. "Y-you mean we...we...?"

"Oh, yes!" he husked, then dipped low again to whisper. "Or make it appear so, at least. We might even manage to be quite convincing." The Doctor certainly had no doubts about _his_ believability.

He eased back to search her eyes, finding anxious uncertainty staring back. Despite the stakes, he was not going to pressure Rose into something she was not comfortable allowing. Not after everything she'd already put up with. His hand stroked her arm in a gesture of reassurance as he leaned back in. "Or...we can end all this now, Rose. We don't have to do it this way. Just say the word."

Rose pulled back and held his gaze, as if rising to a challenge. "Let's just finish this."

He swallowed forcibly. He knew what this would entail and needed her to be certain. "You're sure this isn't too...weird for you?"

"Not for us," she answered back on a quiet breath.

That could be taken in one of two ways, positive or negative. Either way she was agreeing. He nodded once. Right. Onwards. He could handle this.

"We–" the Doctor stopped himself as he spoke out loud, then lowered his voice and tried again. "We'll have to at least engage in a few of the...customary things."

Her hand reached for him, fingers threading through his hair as she held him close, and he tried to tame his body's shuddering response. Right, then. It seemed Rose wasn't going to have any trouble with the convincing bit. "Just how 'customary' are we talkin' here?"

Impulse took over as he cupped her cheek, keeping her close. "Bit of oral activity, at least."

"You mean _snog?"_ Rose brazenly clarified.

He congratulated himself for his calm, even tone. "Basically, yes."

Rose shrugged, the motion seeming indifferent. "S'pose I'll just have to live with that," she whispered out with a sigh.

The Doctor felt his eyes narrow in response to her insipid words. If Rose truly didn't want any of this with him then fine. He was coming to accept that and could even understand it. But she'd deigned to give him at least one more kiss, and he was bloody well taking it.

"We'll both just have to cope," he heard himself rasp before his mouth came down on hers.


	5. Part Five

**A/N **Last part! I hope you've enjoyed these glimpses into the Doctor's thoughts. This last scene is not as detailed as the original but is rated a strong T nonetheless.

Yes, this ends on an intense moment but we know what happened next. ;) This catches up to the point in the original story where the Doctor _finally_ made his thoughts and feelings known.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Part Five<span>**

It was over. The humans had been rescued and the D'Narians no longer posed a threat, swift and certain justice having been delivered. It was over.

And it was just beginning.

Chaotic emotions roiled inside the Doctor and hurled him toward the breaking point. It had taken every ounce of his composure to hold it together through this final undertaking and bring the captives back home. As everyone departed the TARDIS and stepped back onto Earth's soil, the Doctor could feel those last frayed tendrils of control begin to give way. He was about to snap, and with the mission complete there was nothing to stop him from succumbing.

Any other time he might have feared these powerful emotions that threatened to overtake him. He might have feared what they could make him do. Not now, though. He was so far beyond fearing. So far beyond treading carefully. So far beyond holding back.

He couldn't even focus on the shower of thanks currently being bestowed by the grateful humans he had helped to free. The Doctor's mind was wholly preoccupied… No. That was far too mild a term. His mind was _eaten_ _alive_ by the state of his relationship with Rose. They had not just crossed lines. They had obliterated them. They had given of themselves and taken of each other in the most powerful and binding of ways. There was no going back from that. Not now. Not ever. Not for him.

The Doctor stood in the midst of a joyous throng and couldn't even _speak. _His every thought, his every breath was consumed by what had transpired with Rose just hours before, an escalation of events that had changed everything…

-:-:-:-

His mind is awhirl, wondering how on Earth things have gone this far this fast. Rose is lying beside him on the bed, her respiration rapid and her wide eyes gazing up into his.

They have engaged in a perilous game of provocative pretense in order to satisfy their eavesdropping captors, escalating to a dangerous degree when Rose taunted that another man – _Jack!_ – might be better suited to this sort of thing.

Acting on a primal, surging need to prove otherwise, the Doctor has just used his mouth to silence her, and it seems to have done the job. She's not speaking. She's waiting for him to make the next move. He feels as if he's teetering on a precipice. He could withdraw and end this "game" here and now before he annihilates remaining boundary lines. Or he could keep on playing with fire until he's burned alive.

It seems there's only one thing he _can_ do with Rose panting and glassy-eyed, staring up at him with all the raw beauty of a supernova. He can do nothing but bare his soul, his voice low and on the verge of trembling.

"Oh, my Rose. My beloved. My heart and soul. I adore you beyond measure; beyond life; beyond time. You have _no idea _what you do to me…how you make me feel."

Up until now his brazen words and sensual sound effects have been playful and even goading, serving the purpose of pretense while trying to draw her out and gauge her reaction. But there is no trace of playfulness in his declaration. For a moment he can't even breathe. He has never felt more vulnerable in all his lives. His stuttering hearts have just been laid in the hands of one human woman. His only protection is knowing that his words can still be attributed to this mad and dangerous charade…if it comes to that.

His hearts increase their frantic pace as Rose sits up, swings her legs over the side of the bed and turns her back to him.

"Keep that up and I won't last much longer," she says, her tone lifeless.

Clearly such words were _not_ ones she wanted to hear. He inwardly kicks himself for not doing a better job of holding back, knowing he shouldn't have pushed it.

Fearing he has gone too far, he moves to sit beside her as he whispers, "What's wrong?"

"What could possibly be wrong about all this?" she hisses back.

"Rose–"

She turns her head to look him dead in the eyes, voice low but sharp. "Do you ever take anything seriously?"

"Yes," he bites out in reply. If Rose truly wants, he can show her just how _serious_ he can be. He's only held back for her sake, but now he's had just about enough. If she doesn't want this sort of thing with him, finds it unwise or dangerous or just plain intolerable, then he wants her to bloody well just _say_ it. "Like finding out what's wrong with you."

"Wrong with _me_?" she grates out.

He finally puts a voice to a fraction of what's been burning in his mind and twisting in his hearts. "You've hated everything about this since day one. Why?"

"You think I _shouldn't_?"

Her words hit him like a slap and leave a nasty sting. He feels the instinct to close himself off and stalk away. He wants to retreat but there's nowhere to go. He doesn't even have the TARDIS at the moment. Rose hasn't denied she hates this. _Hates_ this. With him. Yet the insult recedes as quickly as it flared because he honestly can't blame should she want this with someone like him?

That's it, then. He's asked for it and she's made her feelings clear. He just has to salvage what's left of this situation and try to finish this mission. "We're trying to save people. It's what we do," he whispers out.

"So business as usual, then?" she quietly seeks to confirm, making sure it's nothing more now that she's made it clear she doesn't want that.

His voice is a dull murmur. "Whatever you want to call it, Rose."

Her expression seems to shift but he can't decipher the direction. "Right. Business as usual. So where were we?"

Before the Doctor can respond, Rose is launching herself toward him, pinning his stunned body to the bed with her own.

For a moment he is too surprised to even react as her lips crush to his and her hands claim possession. She's angry. That much is obvious. Has she realized how much he wants this and is trying to show him he shouldn't? Demonstrate that it would only lead to dangerous repercussions? He's already wrestled with that during many a long nights. Yet he still wants it. But not like _this_.

"Rose–" he breaks free just enough to rasp.

"Try for a whimper," she taunts in his ear. "Isn't that how this is played?"

Her mouth dives back down, but this time he presses up and meets her halfway, gaining the leverage to flip them both until their positions are reversed.

"Rose…," he unsteadily tries again.

She looks away, voice a low mumble. "Better. You're learning. I've made a great study for you in human behave–"

Two of his fingers press to her lips. "Shhhh."

"Make me," she chuckles, but there is no humor in the sound. He sees tears begin to gather in her eyes. Is that what she thinks? That he has been _making_ her do this? That he has pressured her into it? That was the last thing he wanted in all this. It seems he failed on that account, too.

He shakes his head, voice dim. "I'm not going to make you do anything. I never would."

"Never would," he hears her repeat.

He's about to get up and end all this, put some distance between them and let her know he'll never attempt anything like this again if that's what she wants. But before he can make a move her lips are back, almost bruising in their intensity.

For Rassilon's sake! What more is this woman going to put him through? Does she not know he will break in two if he has to hold back any longer? He _is_ breaking, and for a moment he gives in, fingers seeking her face, stroking her skin, deepening the angle of their fused mouths.

Her hands clutch him, grip at his clothes, tug at the buttons on his shirt and…

With a gasp, he breaks from her lips as her scorching hand meets his bared chest. But she dives back down, reclaiming his mouth, pushing his shirt from his shoulders and wrenching his tie from his neck.

Why is she…?

What has just…?

He can't _think,_ and for a moment he gives up even trying. All he knows is he needs to be closer, needs to feel more of her, and he shakes his arms free of the rumpled shirt, falling back to the bed, panting and on the verge of initiating his respiratory bypass.

His glazed eyes clear just enough to register Rose flinging off her own shirt before swooping back down. Before he loses the last shred of his sanity, he needs to gain _some_ sort of clarity here. Rose is still angry. Right? Angry at thinking he's been making her play along with something she didn't want? Is she trying to prove a point, showing how far she thinks he would try to make her go? She needs to know he has _not_ been wanting her to play any sort of game.

"R-Rose," he rasps out. "We…don't have to keep pretending."

Rose pulls back to look directly into his eyes. "Good. Then we won't." With that, her lips dive back down, but his fingers still her.

"You're angry," he tries to reason.

"Was," she seems to be correcting.

He can usually process an impressive amount of information and make sense of it at light speed. But right now that one reply makes his head spin. If Rose isn't angry then…what? Because he dare not let himself hope for any other possibility after all this.

"Humans and their unpredictable emotions," he murmurs, glancing away as he tries to clear his head.

"Th-this isn't a mood swing. It's…"

She can't seem to find the words for what she's trying to convey. For a moment he can't seem to care. Because her mouth is back on his, every curve of her body molding to him. It isn't until he registers that she has completely bared half her body that his brain _finally_ begins to catch up to all this. His hungry eyes rake her exposed neck, shoulders, chest…

Time stills. There, over her heart, is one tiny, momentous word. _Their_ word.

_Run_.

"_Oh_. Rose…"

"Yes," she breathes, the answer that makes everything feel as if it's at long last falling into place.

The rest is a euphoric whirlwind. All he knows is that Rose must, _must_ feel the same way as he. Her kiss, her touch, her body, her entire being, everything she is giving him – _giving_ _him_ – conveys the same feelings that consume him. She feels it, too. She _has to_. Of course she does. What foolish cowards they have been. But why they've held back no longer matters. All that matters is they are finally letting go.

And they let go. Fully. Irrevocably.

At last they are one, and for once in the Doctor's life the rest of the universe fades away. He can't even form words. Maybe he no longer needs to try. They move as if voicing the same declarations, as if reading each other's innermost thoughts. He is lost now. Utterly, completely and eternally lost to this woman above him. This woman encompassing him, body and soul.

Pleasure erupts and her inferno ignites his own, his body staking its ultimate claim. She is his. He is hers.

It isn't until his bleary eyes open, beholding her own, that clawing doubts come tearing back into his mind.

Rose looks…shocked.

There is no other way to describe it. It's almost as if she can't believe this even happened. She attempts to speak but doesn't seem capable. She looks away.

Is she…? Does she…? "D-did…did I hurt you?" is the first thing he's able to say, realizing his fingers are still digging into the flesh of her hips, but his question speaks of so much more.

Her eyes fly back to his, then down to her bare skin. He wants to caress the red, angry flesh, moves his hand on instinct to do so, but then retracts, not sure if he even should. He's not sure of anything.

"No, it's…s'okay," she mumbles, glancing down at the marks left behind. "I…I didn't feel it."

She didn't feel it.

Oh, but he feels it. The Doctor feels her entire body shaking as Rose leaves him, rolling to her back and putting distance between them.

At a loss as to what to do, what to say, he numbly covers them both with the duvet. She darts a look at him then turns her face away.

His mind is a whirling cyclone of panic and doubt. What just happened here? Well, he's acutely aware of what happened. But…why? If Rose regrets it, as she seems to, then why in Rassilon's name _do_ it? Did human instinct simply take over? Questions leave his mind at the same moment two little words disintegrate his hearts.

"I-I'm sorry," Rose whispers in a broken voice.

If that is how she really feels, there is only one thing he can say in return.

"So am I."

-:-:-:-

The Doctor's mind was wrenched from the aching memory and back to the present as his eyes caught sight of Rose slipping away from the crowd of grateful humans. She wasn't heading back to the TARDIS, their shared abode. She was heading in the direction of an empty cabin. She was running. Running from this. Running from _him_.

The tenuous remains of his sanity finally snapped. Enough! He could no longer keep this suppressed inside. He couldn't just pretend it hadn't happened or walk away from this. He _couldn't_. Because... Because he… He loved her.

He _loved_ her.

And if he knew anything about that emotion whatsoever, he knew the truth of what he had felt from Rose in that moment of utmost intimacy, despite what might have come after. If there was even a _chance_ Rose felt the same way, he was fighting for this.

Feeling an inciting surge of fire course through his veins, he took off in her direction. One way or another, this was going to be settled.

Driven by raw, primal emotion, the Doctor reached the cabin and threw open the door, wild eyes casting about for the woman who had him on the brink of insanity. Rose was not in immediate sight, but the trail of clothes strewn across the pine floor and the sound of running water from the en-suite told him her whereabouts. This time he was fully aware that he would be storming in on her in the bath, but he didn't spare a care about propriety. If she didn't want herself exposed to him, she should have thought of that a few hours ago. It was too late for false modesty now. He was seeking bare truth. She _was_ going to face him. He was going to face _her_. They were going to face _this_.

The Doctor kicked his Chucks from his feet before stalking toward the bathroom. He shucked his jacket without thought as he reached the door. He ripped at the buttons of his shirt as he pushed inside. To fully undress would have taken too long, so he went straight for the tub, not caring that the remainder of his clothing was about to get soaked. Rose stood unawares on the other side, everything between them now separated only by a flimsy white curtain.

Chest heaving and hearts thudding, he grabbed the edge of the shower curtain and flung it aside.


End file.
